And I break.
The world narrows down to the weight of his arms around me. The floor is cold beneath us, but he doesn’t let me feel it. He pulls me closer instead, so I’m sitting on his lap. My face presses into his shoulder as I sob, my breath catching in jagged stutters.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice rough. “I’ve got you, Em.” He kisses the top of my head, his hand moving slowly up and down my back.
Heather kneels beside us, her hand settling gently on my back. The three of us just…hold each other. And I can’t stop the way my mind keeps going back to Jude. To the version of him that smiled like the stars themselves granted his existence. The way the sunlight hit his face that day at Ecola Point. His head tilted slightly, hair caught in the wind, that easy, boyish smile stretching across his face.
He was happy. He was...him.
I scream into Micah’s chest because that version of Jude feels so far away now. “No…” I choke out. “No, no—”
Micah’s arms tighten around me immediately. But it’s not enough. It doesn’t stop my mind from showing me the difference. The boy in that photo...versus the man behind that door, chained to a bed…
My tears come harder, faster, until I’m shaking in Micah’s arms, completely unraveling. “I can’t lose him,” I whisper, the words spilling out broken and desperate. “I can’t. Ican’t—”
“I know,” Micah says softly, his voice thick with his own emotion.
His hands move up slowly, gently taking my face, forcing me to look at him. His eyes are red, jaw tight. “Emma,” he says quietly, his thumbs brushing away my tears as more fall in their place. “We can cry.”
I swallow hard, trying to breathe through it.
“We can fall apart right now,” he continues. “But we can’t forget what we’re doing.”
I whimper, my chest seizing through the devastation of it.
“We’re not done,” he says. “Not even close. He’s still in there. And we’re going to bring him back.”
I shake my head, my voice trembling. “What if we can’t? He hates me. Alexei really got what he fucking wanted.”
Micah doesn’t hesitate. “We will.”
The certainty in his voice doesn’t erase the fear, but it steadies me a little. My chest rises and falls as I let myself feel it, even if I hate it. Because if Jude is going to come back...I need to be stronger than this moment. Stronger than the pain. The fear that’s trying to swallow me whole.
I press my forehead briefly against Micah’s, closing my eyes as another tear slips down my cheek. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
He shakes his head immediately. “Don’t be.”
Heather’s hand squeezes my shoulder gently. We sit there for a moment longer, the three of us tangled together in grief and determination and…hope.
Chapter eight
EMMA EASTON
I blink slowly, trying to figure out why something feels off in my dark room. Goosebumps break out over my arms, and I stop breathing. Then, something shifts beside me. A warm body. I go rigid, every nerve snapping awake as the blanket moves. Someone is sitting next to me. My hand twitches, instinct pulling me toward defense, toward distance—
“Hey.” Rafe’s voice is soft.
I freeze. “Rafe?” My voice comes out heavy with sleep. “What…what are you doing in my bed?”
“You’re a great kisser, love,” he whispers. “But that’s not why I’m here."
“I, wha—”
“Listen,” he interrupts. Something in his tone sets me alert immediately. I don’t move at first. I just listen, straining in the dark, and that’s when I hear a voice. It’s faint and distorted, coming through something in Rafe’s hand. The glow of a phone screen barely touches his sharp features.
I sit up fast, my hand landing on his shoulder to steady the sleepiness. “What is that?” I whisper.
He doesn’t answer right away. He just adjusts the phone, letting the sound reach me more clearly. He hits“unmute”and presses a finger to his lips to keep me quiet. Then a voice cuts through.